It was mile 8 where I began formulating excuses for my lackluster performance in the Soldier Field 10 miler. My homunculus and I engaged in a spirited mental sparring match reminiscent of a swashbuckling scene in the old Zorro movies.
“It’s too hot to run any faster.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, the 2007 marathon was much hotter.”
“You’re just getting too old for this.”
“Nonsense, the best long distance runners are in their 40s”
“Your leg hurts.”
“That was before the race, it doesn’t hurt now.”
“Why don’t we just quit running now?”
“Running is the fastest way to get this over with.”
“I don’t know why you didn’t cut over on the trail when you could.”
“I’m not going to cheat in a race!”
“It’s too bad your so sick.”
“I’m not that sick.”
“When did you get so slow?”
“I don’t know. Besides, I’m still faster than more than half the runners here.”
“Big deal.”
“Plus, think how much faster I am than people that couldn’t even run 10 miles.”
As the internal debate raged, my trusty Gballz continued orbiting in their infinity symbol in front of me. In the later miles of a long race, joggling is thoughtless.
The hot, humid weather piled sweat on my skin making it feel like I was carrying more weight every mile. My shirt was like a wet towel, my shorts felt like long curtains. I finished strong at the end but even in the final 50 yards my usual lightning speed sprint was more like a rapid jog.
Everyone has races like these. Your expectations are at one place but your abilities are somewhere else. During this race, my abilities were barely better than an 8 min mile.
But I can’t complain. It was a beautiful race. The volunteers and organizers were great. And the crowd was enthusiastic about the joggling. I even managed to throw a bean bag over the finish banner and catch it on the other side. This was caught on the jumbotron (the large television in Soldiers Field). I do hope I get to see the video.
My final time was 1:19, a full 8 minutes slower than last year. I hope this isn’t indicative of how my running life will be. At age 40, I was breaking records. At 41, I’m just not as fast….yet.
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Nice job, Perry! Way to battle your own negative self-talk. In juggling and joggling, one has to do that often in order to excel.